THERAPY

You took me to the park. You got me there, I think, by promising we’d visit the ice cream van, but when we got there you took me by the hand and dragged me across the grass. I fell a few times, bruising, skinning, because I wore shorts that day. You shouted at me to hurry up, insulted my cultural heritage in no uncertain terms, brought my mother into it. There were fifteen people standing in a circle, I suppose waiting for us. Everyone in the circle started laughing, out of nothing, out of nowhere. They looked at me and laughed. You laughed most, but I hit the man to the other side of me, because he looked like he could take it.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s